


Begging for Clarity

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Bottom Rick, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Loyal Daryl, M/M, POV First Person, POV Rick, Porn with Feelings, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Spanking, Stressed Rick, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick comes back from his negotiations with the Governor, he's beyond stressed.  He needs a moment.  A break.  A breath.  He needs someone else to take control from him for a little bit so he can get out of his own head.  </p><p>And as always, Daryl is there.  Loyal and happy to give Rick anything he needs.  Anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begging for Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of smut as a reward to myself for finishing my next long fic. (It is in the midst of the beta process now so may be posting in a couple weeks!)
> 
> Thanks to the Rickyl Writer's Group who helped me chat out a time and place for my smut! I've written so much I'm running out of new places and time frames for them to do it in!!
> 
> Warning: This is totes unbeta'd!

The arrogance that dripped off of that _governor_ made my blood boil. So smug. So calm. I tried to match the calmness. Tried to be objective, to listen, to negotiate. But I knew I was shaky. Knew I wasn’t coming across as confident and casual as this megalomaniac. I walked out the _discussion_ with the taste of whiskey on my tongue and the smell of hatred trapped in my nostrils. I didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust his offer with Michonne. This man was going to come for us. He HATED us. And he reeked of it. 

Hershel didn’t speak much on the ride back to the prison. I was quiet and pensive, just watching Daryl ahead of us on the bike. Daryl was my right hand. My center. He was there to talk me down, always. To save me from walkers and to save me from myself more times than I could count. And I knew as we drove back that I needed him. I needed to feel the strength of his loyalty. His trust. I needed him to listen and guide me with the gentle way he has of mumbling the right questions when tough decisions need to be made. He wanted nothing to do with the council, but he served on it because I asked him to. I needed him.

Once we were back inside the prison gates, everyone somber but happy for our safe return, I shook my head at Maggie’s pleading eyes, desperate for information. “I need some time,” I said. And I met Michonne’s eyes and nodded in greeting. 

“Give him some time, everyone” Hershel said from behind me as he hobbled on his crutches.

I picked up my pace to walk with Daryl and cupped the palm of my hand on his elbow. I tilted my head when he looked my way and he knew that meant I needed his council. His conversation. His guidance. We walked together, steps synchronized, to the prison and then I led as we went deep into the part of the tombs we had cleared of walkers. When we got to an empty boiler room, I paced. Daryl lowered his crossbow and leaned against the wall, nibbling at a nail and waiting patiently for me to form words. 

“I don’t trust him,” I said. 

Daryl met my eyes. “Then I don’t trust him either.” That was all Daryl needed. He followed me unquestionably and as much as I loved his loyalty, it scared me. Scared me that everyone was willing to live or die based on my decisions. 

“This is a decision that could lead to war, Daryl. I can’t make decisions like these. I’m not… I’m… You’ve seen me. I’m losing my fucking mind. I can’t protect everyone. I can’t make the decisions for everyone anymore.” I rambled on and on and Daryl just watched me with careful eyes. 

I collapsed into a chair and dropped my head to an old dusty desk that sat in the corner of the utility area. I lifted my head and banged it hard against the wood. Desperate to turn off all my thoughts. To turn off the panic, the worry, the hallucinations that I was terrified would resurface with this kind of stress.

After four hard cracks of skull to plywood, Daryl grabbed my shoulders and pulled me out of the chair. He shoved me back against the wall as I felt the slow trail of blood leaking from my forehead. I struggled to pull away from Daryl but he was much stronger than I. 

“Rick,” he said in that calming way he had. One word. My name coming out in the sound of his soft voice making me breathe. 

Once my ragged panicked breathing slowed, he took one hand off me, grabbed the red shop rag from his back pocket and wiped at the damage I caused to my own forehead. 

“You gotta calm down, Rick. We’ve been through tough times before.”

My head swirled with the other living we’d stumbled upon. Kills. My kills. Decisions and consequences and my body was shaking, my breaths erratic again. I bent over gasping for breath as I hyperventilated. 

“I need to get out of my head, Daryl. I need to get out. I need to turn off.” I leaned into him, having no idea what I really needed. No idea what to ask for. I just needed help. I needed him to take control for just a moment. “Please,” I begged. 

“Rick, everything will be ok. You just-” 

I snapped. I wrenched myself out of his hold and punched him square in the jaw until he was forced to go on defense, holding me down in a headlock to the ground. In the confused scramble for dominance, Daryl’s hand came down hard across my ass in a slap that stung and echoed off the walls of the room.

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Please, get me out of my head,” I begged. 

Daryl was still. “That what you want? A beating?”

“Yes,” I said, breath rapid and uneven. “Please, Daryl. I just want to _feel_. I don't’ want to think. I need a break. I need a moment.” I got up on all fours and dropped my head in shame. I needed pain, pleasure, anything to redirect my thoughts.

Daryl was silent and unmoving and the only sound in the room were my breaths, out-of-sync and interrupted by little cries that slipped out from my constricting throat. I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen.

And then suddenly, it was there again. The hard swing of Daryl’s strong arm, the flat of his hand connecting with one of my ass cheeks and stinging it so that all my thoughts were directed to my backside. 

“Yes,” I panted.

Daryl was silent for a moment and then he gave me what I asked for like I knew he would. His first few hits were tentative, but by the fifth, he swatted at me with the force I was begging for and I groaned with the pleasure of pain. I needed it, every sting. And there was no one else that I trusted to give this to me. The stings were making my cock hard and I thought about sex for the first time in months. How I was suddenly so filled with the need for it, pent up. I needed a release. A release of everything. Release of power and control. And I had to come. I needed it. 

I got up on my knees after a tenth slap and unbuckled my belt, unzipped and unbuttoned and wiggled out of my pants. 

“Rick?” Daryl questioned, his voice gritty and soft all at the same time. He looked down as I knelt and saw my cock, heavy and leaking between my legs. “I need you,” I whimpered. He held my gaze and nodded, wordless. I turned around and got back onto my hands and knees, bare from the waist down and desperate for the feel of Daryl’s palm against my skin, no threadbare pants to muffle the sound of the slap. 

“A few more. Please,” I whispered, taking notice that my breaths were calmer and steady.

“I’ll give you anything you need, Rick. Whatever you want,” and then I heard the whoosh of his hand through the air and the sharp smack of flesh against flesh and my cock throbbed. I’d never been with a man. Never even thought about it, but I felt empty. And I craved Daryl. I wanted him inside me, filling me. 

I sucked on my fingers as Daryl rubbed his rough hands over my ass that was surely showing some color by now. I reached back and teased my own entrance open and I heard Daryl gulp hard behind me. “You need me to fuck you, Rick?” Daryl asked quietly. “I can if that’s what you want.”

I sunk in a second finger and nodded. “Yes. Now. Please.” Words falling out of me with each pump of my fingers. 

“Daryl put a hand onto mine and carefully pulled my fingers out. “I can do that,” he said. I listened to the sounds of zippers and shoes and clothing rumpling to a pile on the cold floor. 

“Kinda nervous. Ain’t go no spit,” Daryl said as he slipped two fingers into my mouth, carding his other hand through my curls as I sucked. “That’s good,” Daryl whispered. “Nice and wet. I’ll take care of you, Rick. I’ll always take care of you.”

His voice was soothing and his gentle fingers in my hair were the utter opposite of the hard slaps to my backside, but both were soothing in their own way. Both made me _feel_. Made me want. Made me forget.

He pulled his fingers out of my mouth and moved behind me, opening me wider, one finger at a time.

“Not forcing you to do any of this, am I Daryl?” I asked, suddenly worried that his loyalty to me would overshadow his own comfort level.

“No, Rick. I’ve belonged to you now for a very long time. Just been waiting for you to need me like this.” He slipped his fingers out after scissoring me wide open.

His palm was in front of me again. “Spit,” He whispered, and I did. 

I felt him lining himself up and pressing into me, I resisted out of instinct and concentrated hard on trying to allow him access. His hands were on my ass and I could still feel the heat there from his smacks. I backed into him as he tried to press forward and finally the head of his cock entered me and I sighed like I’d been waiting for decades. Waiting for something I didn’t even know I wanted. Daryl pushed a little bit at a time, giving me moments after each forward thrust to get used to the feeling. 

Once he was fully seated, I felt like there was nothing in the world but Daryl and I. Nothing but Daryl IN me. Over me. Being mine and me being his.

“Daryl,” I moaned, pushing back against him. “I need this.”

“I know,” Daryl whispered. “I got you.” He started thrusting, hands on my hips, moans of pleasure falling from his lips and from mine. He felt _right_ inside me. The drag of his cock in and out of me gave me goosebumps, made my untouched cock continue to leak and when I felt so much sensation that I was about the grab onto my own dick, Daryl beat me to it, sliding a hand from my hip to my swollen erection. His thick wide hand stroking my cock. Holding it tight, panting hard behind me. 

“You’ll feel better, Rick. Let go. Just let go.”

I groaned and gasped in response, words failing me. 

“Just feel it. Feel me. Be here with me. Just us, Rick.”

And everything was centered in my core. My thoughts, my heart, my emotions, all intertwined and vibrating as Daryl’s cock pressed repeatedly against a part of me that sent shivers through my veins. An explosion was building inside me like a bubbling volcano left dormant for centuries, finally heating and swelling and boiling, preparing for it's eruption. Daryl pumped my cock and cried out my name as I felt the wet heat of him coming hard inside me and my volcano burst. Ecstasy. Euphoria. Then I slipped to the floor as Daryl pulled out and lay beside me with a hand on the small of my back. And then peace and nothing and Daryl and quiet. My head was quiet.

And I laid on the hard floor, more comfortable than I’d ever been in my life. 

“You good?” Daryl asked me, “Cause I...I’m good.”

I smiled at him as he kept his eyes on my eyes, centering me, calming me. I nodded.

Daryl stood and dressed as I took a few more moments to enjoy the blankness before I sat up.

I was clear. Determined. And I knew what we had to do. I stood and dressed. 

“Thank you,” I said with sincerity.

“Any time,” He answered and he leaned back against the wall, crossbow over his shoulder, waiting for my lead. For the conversation he knew we had to have. 

“We’re going to war,” I said.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it just me or would this have been better "We're going to war" proclamation?
> 
> Also... seriously, I may have written Rick and Daryl doing it at every single stage and in every single place during the apocalypse. Let me know if you can think of any places/times that I may not have done yet! I'm running out of one-shot smut ideas!!


End file.
